Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 129691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
She sighed, feeling like slapping herself. “Pull your head out of your ass and get your shit together?” She shook her head. “God, I suck at this.” She downed her second shot and then poured herself another. Why not?
The bell above the door chimed as his paternal grandmother pulled it open. The antique store had closed twenty minutes ago, but Alex had known she’d still be hanging around. As he stepped inside, dozens of scents slithered over him. Wood polish. Rich leather. Old, musty cloth. Lemongrass air freshener.
His beast shook his fur, his nose twitching in irritation. Like Alex, the animal was still smarting from Bree’s departing comment.
He’d no doubt hurt her pride when he declared she wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship he’d want, but it was true. She was only twenty-four. She’d had a string of short, casual relationships, but nothing that would come close to what he’d demand of her. In a few years, though—
She might have mated with someone else.
He shut down that train of thought fast.
Ingrid beamed at him. “Well if it isn’t my favorite grandson,” she said as the door closed behind him, blocking out the street noise and replacing it with that of old music, a phone ringing, and several clocks ticking out of sync. “Give your Grams a hug.”
Alex wasn’t a hugger—he wasn’t a tactile person at all really, which was unusual for a shifter—but he obliged her. With her vintage clothes, antique jewelry, and her hair styled into an old-fashioned updo, she fit right in with the store. She managed it for Vinnie, choosing to ignore that her son often smuggled money via the antiques.
“You call all your grandsons your favorite,” Alex pointed out as he broke the hug.
“Well, you all are. But I do have a soft spot for you.”
“That’s something else you say to us all.”
Cackling, Ingrid patted his upper arm. “I take it you’re here to see my Vinnie. He’s upstairs with Tate and Luke,” she added, referring to the Alpha’s oldest sons. “Go on up.”
Alex stalked down the slim aisle, passing antique furnishings, oil paintings, gilded mirrors, and a grandfather clock. There were also smaller items—many of which sat on table displays—such as china dishware, porcelain dolls, old lamps, and cigar boxes.
A quick jog up a narrow staircase took him into Vinnie’s apartment. Vinnie’s mate and four children had lived there with him at one time. But the Alpha female died a long time ago. Surviving the breaking of the mating bond was no small thing, but Vinnie had gotten through it—something Alex would always respect him for.
Tate, Luke, and Elle had all moved into the pride’s apartment complexes. Only Vinnie’s youngest son, Damian, lived with him now.
Following the sounds of voices, Alex headed into the kitchen. Vinnie and Luke sat at the dining table while Tate leaned against the counter. All looked at Alex as he entered.
“I heard you were back,” said Vinnie, gesturing for Alex to sit opposite him. “Good trip?”
Taking a seat, Alex replied, “Fine.”
“Oh please, tell me more.” Vinnie snickered. “What brings you here?”
“Hyenas.”
The Alpha’s gaze sharpened. “Hyenas?”
“I take it Bree hasn’t called you yet. Three of them circled her in the middle of the street this morning.” Which got his blood boiling every time he thought about it. “They didn’t say what clan they were from. One introduced himself as John Jones, which I’m guessing is a false name. Unless you know of a hyena with that name?”
Vinnie shook his head, lips pursed. “I’ll make some calls and look into it. Did she tell you what they looked like?”
“No, but Mila did.” After rattling off the very thorough descriptions that his sister had given him, Alex asked, “Any of them sound familiar?”
“Not even a little.” Vinnie’s gaze danced from Tate to Luke. “What about you two?”
“The descriptions don’t ring any bells for me,” replied Luke, the pride’s Head Enforcer.
Tate, who was Beta of the pride, shook his head in the negative. “But I’ll keep a lookout for them from here on out.” His gaze cut to Alex. “What did they want?”
“To speak with Paxton,” replied Alex.
Vinnie’s brows flew up. “I see. I’m guessing she told them he was dead.”
“She did.” Alex wasn’t sure if she truly believed that or if she just needed to believe it. Fuck, he hoped the guy was dead—it would be easier on her that way.
Alex doubted the twisted piece of shit would ever have hurt her. She was probably the only person on the planet who was safe from Paxton. But she deserved better. Far better. And no one should have to bear the weight of keeping someone like Paxton stable.
It was true that people changed when they mated—they calmed, softened, steadied. He’d seen it happen. He’d seen stone-cold men find peace and suddenly feel emotions that Alex would never have thought them capable of experiencing. But Paxton wasn’t someone whose life experiences had taken a toll on him and shaped him into what he was. He’d never been normal. He’d just gotten very good at pretending to be.